


Head Over Heels in a Grave

by Bai_Marionette



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Guess the reference for the title, M/M, Sleepy Hollow AU, Yes Ivan is dead and a ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-11-25
Packaged: 2018-02-17 03:58:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2295824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bai_Marionette/pseuds/Bai_Marionette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Long ago, a poor soul was loved by the son of a powerful merchant. When found together, however, only the immigrant was punished and the son was left to grieve until he mysteriously went insane and vanished. Now, a headless spirit haunts the area, looking for someone long gone… or are they? RusAme. Sleepy Hollow AU. Dark fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ding, Dong, the Witch is Dead

"Dad. This place looks as if God himself gave up on making this place even remotely welcoming to the world," Alfred groaned from his place in the back seat as he lowered his Beats headphones from his ears to rest on his neck. He threw a disgusted look outside. "Why did I agree to leave sweet Cali for this dump again?"

From beside him Alfred’s step-brother, Mathew, rolled his eyes and went back to read his book. He had finished a paragraph of his last page before he answered. “You didn’t have a choice, moron.” His tone was even and mocking, “Dad got a new job – suck it up like the rest of us and stop complaining every five minutes.”

"No one asked you, jerk," Alfred snapped at him, a bit offended that the other was still trying to call Alfred’s dad his father. The teen wanted to yell at him again and bring up the fact that Mathew’s dad was actually somewhere back in the Arctic region known to the world as Canada, and that if Mathew wanted a dad - that he could go back up there like he had before their parents had gotten married, but he held his tongue. As much as he wanted a cut at Mathew, Alfred remembered how upset his dad got when his son fought with the other.

Alfred huffed as the half old fashioned and modern-day town that was to be his new home came into view. Finally, they were getting close to the house. “I can’t believe I had to break up with Selina for this piece of shit.”

"Alfred!" His step-mother snapped as Alfred tuned her out to look out the backseat window. "Watch your mouth."

"No one told you to break up with Selina, genius," Mathew rebuked. "You could have had a long distance relationship with her from here. It’s only a couple of hours away."

Alfred rolled his eyes. “And let her catch me in this dump? Then she’d dump me.”

At Alfred’s poor sense of reasoning, the other rolled his eyes and tried to go back to his reading. Honestly, his step-brother needed to grow up. Turning another page, mauve eyes scanned the page down and then let out a, “Huh…well then, that’s a bit weird, but okay.”

Alfred tuned out his step-mother’s scolding of him, as he turned to Mathew. “What’s weird?”

He frowned, as he tried to look over the other teen’s shoulder. “This place better not be haunted or somethin’.”

Mathew frowned at the uncomfortable intrusion to his personal space, as he fought not to roll his eyes again at the other blonde’s stupidity. “One, personal space – back up.”

Alfred huffed and did as he told, but he didn’t go far. Just enough so he was just barely outside of sharing breathing space. He made a rude gesture for Mathew to continue, “Well? Go on, dude, what’s so weird you had to comment out loud?”

Trying not to snap at his step-brother for being rude yet again, he looked back to the pages, and read aloud from one of the paragraphs. "‘It was not usual in the past days for rich merchants to go from their homes and original countries to elsewhere to sell their wares. Some went to such business opportunities personally, while others chose to send someone else in their place.’”

He paused, trying to skip down to the other paragraphs, and Alfred interrupted the short silence, “What? Is that it? Are you serious, dude -“

"Shut up," Mathew looked up to snap. "I had to find the rest."

He continued to read aloud the paragraph he had found. " ‘Since such an act was not unusual, it should come as no surprise that when they leave, they put someone else in charge of their estate. At one point in time, it is written that the son of a wealthy merchant was left in charge while his father went away. There were no issues in the management of the estate – however, his father came home to an awful surprise. His son had become infatuated with a servant and was planning to run off.’"

"Okay, so what?" Alfred interrupted again. Mathew held his tongue back from an insult, as he continued on, ” ‘To prevent such, he ordered the servant killed by any means – and such means included an awful dismemberment after someone made a false accusation of witchcraft. The servant knew not to explain he was not a witch -‘”

"Wait," Alfred cut in again, eyes slightly widened. "Wait, wait, hold up a sec, this powerful prince -"

" - he was just the son of a rich guy, Alfred," Mathew corrected, fighting back the urge to pinch his brow in irritation. Honestly, how had his parents made this idiot?

"Whatever, same difference back then," Alfred countered. "But, yeah, he was banging a dude? What the heck, he was rich and could have had anyone he waited – and he chose to be gay for some servant? That’s dumb, did he pay him to act like he loved him too?"

"Alfred!" Now both of their parents were saying his name. "Now, that’s enough!"

"What?" Alfred said, "I just can’t get why that guy would wanna go after some poor guy who probably couldn’t even speak English well enough than hitting up some hot princess who could speak like three and give him even more money, I mean – if he was rich, he could have had it! Excuse me for having an opinion!"

Mathew sighed, the sound bordering on a growl. He tried not to take the comment personally at himself, but he couldn’t help it. His step-brother was so ignorant. “May I finish?”

"Yeah, sure," Alfred said, tuning out their step-mother again. The woman sighed in exasperation. She was getting tired of the boy’s attitude too.

Mathew found his place, and continued, ” ‘The servant knew not to explain he was not a witch and was promptly executed in the public square by an angry mob. His house had been burned down and belongings either destroyed or stolen.’”

"Damn," Alfred breathed. Neither of the parents had the energy to ask the teen to watch his mouth for probably the umpteenth time. "Just for banging the guy’s son. Talk about overreacting."

For once that day, Mathew agreed with Alfred, as he made a short nod. “It get worse, try on this – ‘Since the death of his lover, the son was said inconsolable and extremely violent. He refused to be anywhere near his father and even attempted to run away several times only to be brought back kicking and screaming. From there, the son’s stability dropped drastically, most of the locals proclaiming him insane and making jokes about it all. Eventually, his father locked him up in his rooms where he stayed in seclusion for almost two years…’”

"Jeez, this is like an episode of Jerry Springer," Alfred interrupted, scooting closer to read some too.

Mathew let him, but kept him from getting too close in his bubble. The other continued to read aloud, "‘However, one day – the son’s rooms were quiet. When a maid came to check on the silence, there was no one in the rooms at all. All of the rooms were empty, no signs of struggle or blood, not even a note left behind. There was not even a trace that someone had even lived there at all – much less had ever lived there for a long time. The diary of a maid was said to have written that she saw cobwebs in ceiling corners and dead spiders over the furniture, and looking like the abandoned room of a deceased.‘"

"Man, that’s some freaky mess right there," Alfred murmured. He tried to read on, "Hey – you missed something, move your thumb." Mathew frowned, but obliged as the louder of the two read aloud.  ”‘A full out search was conducted but there was no body to be ever recovered. The father left town soon after in grief – and it was then rumored that a being began appearing in the public square of a h-headless being wandering about, as if l-looking for something.’”

Alfred’s tone was one of slight fright, his paranoia of ghosts coming out as he shoved the book away from him. “That thing is bogus, gh-ghosts don’t exist. I don’t believe any of it, I bet that author is full of it and made the whole story up.”

Mathew raised a brow but said, “Oh, c’mon, Al – listen to yourself, you sound like some whiny twelve year old.”

Alfred’s face colored slightly, offended and made to say something else, when their step-mother cut them off. “Alright, boys, this is it – we’re at the house. And for God’s sake, don’t break anything – either of you!”

"Al, she’s talking to you," Mathew said, as he put his book away and began gathering his things.

"Mathew, shut the fuck up," Alfred snarled, low enough for their step-mother not to catch, as he snatched up his backpack and get out of the car. He slammed the door just to be a pain in his parents’ ass, as he looked around him. Some willow trees. A big and ugly house that looked straight out a history textbook. A dirt road and some more trees. He thought he saw a dirty lake. Whoopie.

_Home sweet home_ , he thought bitterly.

Grumbling under his breath, he stomped up the dirt path to the front path to shove behind his dad unlocking the door to hurry and claim his room. He made no move to wipe the possible dirt from his feet, tracking some mud onto the interior flooring. He looked about – spacious. Really spacious rooms, at least the entrance hall was, Alfred noted as he made a beeline for the widely spaced stairs. He took them three at a time, determined on picking out the best room.

He made a left, and felt a small tingle go through him as he went under a doorway. He looked at the rooms available, going to the one on the left before frowning as he realized it didn’t seem to be right for him. Like, it didn’t feel right to go in there. He tried to go the other door on the other side of the wall but the feeling of not belonging there was even stronger. He went back the way he came, going to take the right way instead and instantly he found he felt much more welcomed. He brushed off the feelings and those previous as nothing to worry about. He took a look inside on the right door first and while finding it nice and that it had a sweet bed, he didn’t really wanna crash his stuff there.

Instead, he turned on heel and went to try the left door. The door was stuck or something. It didn’t budge in the slightest under his shoving at it, and he was half tempted to throw himself at it or tackle the door like in football and how they do in the movies. He took a few steps back to gain some speed and while his mind was briefly occupied, a lock clicked in the door and the lock slowly but silently gave out for the first time in over a century.

Alfred threw himself at the door, not knowing of its newly unlocked status, and was horribly shocked by the door swinging wide open before he had even hit it and then to come crashing onto the hard wooden floor. The door swiftly and loudly swing back into place – and then locked itself back. Alfred groaned from the floor, as he heard footsteps coming up the stairs after him.

It sounded like his mom’s feet, but the voice was definitely not hers. “Young Master? Are you quite alright?”

Alfred blinked and looked up from looking down at the ground to see a woman holding out her hand for him to take. Her blonde curls were done up in a bun and her green eyes tired. She looked exasperated with him for some reason, but she held out her hand for him to take – her hands were so cold. “You know they will not let you out that way, Young Master, but I do apologize for my words.”

Alfred frowned as the woman – dressed in really old fashioned clothes and heels – walked without sound to the door…and went right through it. At that, Alfred opened his mouth to scream - Only to wake up with a start on the floor of his room. The door was wide open and had slammed into the wall, luckily without any real damage, and his step-mother was kneeling next to him. “Jeez, Al, I told you not to damage anything – and you pass out on the floor, what kind of nonsense is that?”

"Wh-what?" Alfred tried. He noticed how his head hurt and how his tongue felt strange. Not only that but chest hurt, in a really weird sort of way, like when he had entered a non-breathing contest with one of his friends and how he turned his face blue with how long he didn’t breathe. But a little worse, as if he had put his chest under pressure while he had done it.

"I had come up here because you had slammed the door," she said, frowning. She felt the teen’s forehead, murmuring how he felt a little warm. "I think the door is stuck and the lock’s iffy too – I’ll have your dad check it later. Just try to not to lock yourself in again, alright? I don’t want you passing out and then no one being able to save you because the door is into locking itself, honestly."

If only she knew.

After another warning and a reminder to get some stuff from the moving truck, his step-mother left to go about her own things and Alfred was left on his own. The teen looked about his room. Nothing seemed off about it. The walls were a nice shade of blue, with the fluer-de-lys design and dark wooden baseboards and floorboards matching. The nice lamps on the walls had been converted from oil to electric, while still retaining their old fashioned floral shape. The bureau was just a bit darker then flooring; same as the headboards of the elegant overly large bed, and a name was inscribed in perfect script on the top drawer.

Alfred checked…it was his name. Kinda. It said, ‘Alfred Kirkland’

"Pfft," Alfred began, as he tried to tug at the handle of the drawer. "My name’s so much better."

The handle didn’t budge from the drawer, making the teen frown and pull harder. The whole bureau groaned, as if in pain, and then a second later – the drawer came out to snap at Alfred’s knee. He hissed in pain and jumped back while the drawer remained upright, smug. After the initial pain was gone and only a throb remained, the teen checked inside to look at the contents. Some worn out journal…an old locket…some yellow paper and funky looking feathers?… more paper…an old locked box made of tin…and old Belgian chocolate.

A little bite wouldn’t hurt, right? It was his room now – he had dibs on everything in it before everyone and anyone else. Just to see if the chocolate was still edible, he sniffed it – and was actually surprised by how fresh it seemed. He made to peel it, when he saw a label and then threw the chocolate down as if burned. Early nineteenth century chocolate – nah. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry for sweets anymore. He shifted through the old belongings some more and came across a sheet of paper different than the rest.

Curiosity piqued, he made to pull it free. The paper smelled like a summer day, full of floral scents and strangely enough – the smell of freshly picked grain. Though it seemed an odd combination to him, the scent instantly made him nostalgic for something he’s never had. Before touching the paper, he had been missing how he used to stand in the sand – now he missed waves of golden fields instead of cool cerulean waves. A different kind of ocean… Eyes closing in a brief memory for reasons he couldn’t even fathom why, he opened the folded paper afterwards with careful hands as if it might vanish if he touched it wrong.

The paper read:

> ' _Fredka._
> 
> _Leah misses you. You should come see the foal. He can stand on his own now. He enjoys giving kisses though his mother is just as stubborn as ever. It has been nice outside lately. Come and see, you have been working so much lately. A little day off won’t hurt, yes?_
> 
> _-Vanya._ ’

That was it. The entire letter was only composed of only a few sentences. But why was the letter addressed to ‘Fredka’, if this was supposedly an ‘Alfred’s room? Was ‘Fredka’ a nickname for that or something? Weird – and what about ‘Vanya’, who was that? It sounded like an old lady pantie company to Alfred. Maybe it was a nickname too – but for what?

Alfred scanned the letter for anything else, and the only thing he found was the date: 17 July 1826. Whoa. This letter was way older than he thought. He looked over it again for anything else. Nothing. He went back to the drawer and checked the other papers. He found the beginning of another letter – but it wasn’t finished.

> _'Vanya._
> 
> _Thank you for the invite. I will arrive the morning the new tableware comes in. My cousin in France sent it. He says they are very beautiful. Maybe one day you could dine with me. I hope that_

Again, that was it. Nothing else. Alfred, the teen supposed, must have gotten stuck on what to say or caught up in something else. Hm, either way. The letter was unfinished.

Alfred wondered what the big deal about the tableware was as he busied his attention on something else in the drawer. His fingers came across the locket and then something oddly warm in the drawer. He pulled both free – the locket was snagged on a key. Then, he looked more closely. Oh, but the key was right on the chain with the locket. Huh.

Alfred went to check the locket, trying to twist it in different directions to see if he could find any way to open it. He couldn’t find one, but he did find something inscribed on it – some kind of letter? At least, he thought it was a letter. It started out as an ‘A’, but then it had a dot on the leg that was curving up through it. Brushing his finger over the top, he pressed down and the locket startled him by popping open – and dropping a dark brown seed onto his lap.

He frowned as he peered at it. And stared and stared at it some more. He had no idea what kind of seed it was – or if it was a nut. It might be a nut. He meant to try and lick it, but then thought better of it. Why would he lick a century-old seed and/or nut? That was just stupid…

He picked the seed back up to put back in the locket while he tried to look inside of it. Dusty-looking pictures greeted him. Some guy who refused to smile worth shit alongside a younger dude who was smiling for the both of them combined on Mr Sad face's right side, both dressed straight out of some old movie. On the other side was that funky looking dotted ‘A’ again. Alfred scoffed. Whoever this ‘Alfred Kirkland’ guy was, who was one weird guy for making up letters – maybe he thought he was J.R.R Tolkien – he sure had some personality.

Shutting the locket with its ‘precious seed/nut’ back inside, Alfred went to investigating the key. It didn’t look anything spectacular. Just an ordinary silver key, until Alfred remembered the locked box in the drawer. He pulled the box out and then after glancing at the key – he put it in. The lock turned and clanked, and the lid popped open with a long sigh-like creak.

Alfred checked inside and was immediately shocked at the amount of sheets of paper inside, all of them with scribbled writings and symbols and various things crammed onto one sheet – along with other things besides the papers. Candy wrappers licked clean of its previous contents, dried leaves and flower petals, more seeds/nuts, a scrap of cloth, once bright beads faded in age, what Alfred was shocked to find was a horseshoe and even…was that a ring? Alfred chose that brilliant-looking ring as his sole attention and was sorely shocked that when he made to reach for it, just as his fingers graced the very edge of the golden band, a stranded wind blew on the top and shut the box quickly. The key was spat out with a clatter onto the floor and the box was locked right back up.

The blond teen frowned, “Okay…freaky deaky, me gettin’ the Hell out now…” He hadn’t even started to get up and the once-open door slammed loudly back into place. The lock clicked into place, and an ominous cold hovered over the room. The room suddenly seemed suffocating. Alfred looked around but no one was in there but him. He frowned, biting his lip, as he hurriedly put the box back into the drawer, throwing the locket and key with it, as he shut the bureau. He looked around, swallowing thickly and growing more panicked as the suffocating feeling in the room didn’t lessen.

“Hey…uh, A-Alfred, wait – Mr. Kirkland? If th-this is you, I’m sorry for goin’ through y-your stuff. I won’t do it again, promise, I-I didn’t knew you w-were touchy about it, my bad.” Stuttering through an apology, he tried to stand only for something to knock him back to the floor. He felt as if he had shoved violently. His back hit the heavy bureau as a dark feeling settled into his stomach. ‘Alfred Kirkland’ obviously didn’t like his shit messed with. Alfred groaned at the pain throbbing at the back of his head.

His fear was increasing more. “Hey, c’mon, man, I said sorry - let me out. I’ll pick out a different room and then -“

Something kicked out the back of Alfred’s knees, sending him right back to the ground and he yelped out in pain. A second later, it was as if he was being dragged off – except he was in the air one minute and then hitting the wall the next second after. The entire wall shuddered at the blow. Alfred barely mustered up the strength to groan. Right as he was about to hit the floor, his knees buckling, something gripped his neck tightly and slammed him into the wall. And then again and again – several times until the teen was getting a headache and getting dizzy, right about to cry as he kicked and lashed out at the air.

He could barely breathe, barely able to even get out, “H-hey, knock it off! I s-said sorry!”

Maybe that had been the wrong choice of words. He was knocked off the wall alright, right into the suddenly open door and then thrown out to crash into the opposite wall outside the door. Said door shut itself promptly after. Alfred groaned from the floor, in horrible pain, not even knowing of the horrible bruising on his neck or the blood that had started to well from the back of his head.

“Dad…Dad, please…” He groaned lowly, a weak attempt at calling for help. But it was his step-brother who found him – well, Mathew tripped over him.

The other was about to snap at him to get off the floor before he saw the teen injured. “Al – what the Hell? What happened to you?”

Alfred didn’t have any words. He didn’t have a single clue as to what had happened – but obviously, he had pissed somebody really off.

**[-]**

"Ouch, hey, easy, Jesus..!" Alfred winced as his step-mother applied an ice pack. They were in the proclaimed living room. Mathew was beside his step-brother while their father was speaking to Toris – whose family had been the previous owners of the house. Obviously what Toris was saying did not please their father who was now talking in tones too low for Alfred to catch.

"Did you see anything?" His step-mother tried again, "Are you sure? Nothing – you didn’t blink and miss-"

"Dude," Alfred snapped. "I didn’t see next to shit – I was just in the dresser and something came at me, I got jumped by something I - did - not - see." She didn’t even rebuke him for his language. She frowned, sighing softly, as Alfred took the ice pack from her to apply himself. She had been pressing too hard for his liking. Mathew looked upset, but thoughtful. “What did you see in the dresser? Maybe you had something they were really attached to or something-“

"I found a couple of letters, Mattie," Alfred said again. "And a locked box and locket. I unlocked the box and there was a bunch of stuff in it. But I didn’t get attacked when I opened it, I got jumped when I went for this ring."

"A ring?" Mathew said, sitting back up from his leant back position. "You didn’t say that last time."

"Excuse me for not remembering everything after I probably got brain damage, jerk," Alfred snarled. "But yeah – there was a ring in the box, I didn’t get a real good look at it, but then the box shut up and kicked out the key and I got my ass handed to me."

Their step-mother rubbed at her temples, as Mathew put a finger to his lips. Alfred put the ice pack over his eyes and leaned into the sofa, trying to focus on the chill and not the throbbing on the back of his head. "What else was in the box?" Mathew asked, "Anything else besides the ring? Other jewelry or maybe a religious thing or -"

"How about you go up there and go look in the box, why dontcha?" Alfred growled. "Let’s see if that thing beats the curiosity out of you." Mathew didn’t like that answer, pouting and slumping back onto the couch with Alfred. Their step-mother shook her head and stood up to get a round of cold water for them just as their father finally got off the phone.

"Okay, here’s the deal-" He started. "Toris doesn’t know what the fuck that was, that’s never happened to them, and according to him, Alfred," he looked pointedly to his son. "That door has always been locked up, and the one time when they had it taken off to have it repaired – thinking that it was broken - that bureau couldn’t be opened for anything." Alfred frowned, “What – but then how did I get it open?”

Their father shrugged one shoulder, “That was what Toris wanted to know. But more importantly than that door is what happened to you. Toris said that’s never happened at all to any of his family that he knows of.”

Alfred threw his head back, forgetting about his injury, and he found himself with more than one reason to groan, “Are you serious? Nothing – there’s gotta be something to explain what happened in there!”

"I still think you ticked it off, somehow," Mathew piped up and Alfred threw an ugly glare at him.

"Shut. Up," Alfred threatened. "Before I open that door and lock you in there. See how you like it.” Right as it seemed that Mathew was about to come up with a retort, their father coming over to break it up before fists started flying – their step-mother hollered for their father in the kitchen.

"Sam – there’s someone in the yard," she yelled. The three males in the living room went quiet as all thought the same thing. It was too dark outside for anyone to be safe driving outside on the roads. The trees were too big, the willows barely allowed sunlight to get through in the daytime after having gone uncut for so long. It would be pitch black at night. Alfred got up, in the back behind his step-brother and father, despite how his heart was racing and something was trying to tell him to sit back down.

That something was telling him that he shouldn’t have gotten up, but he kept on walking, until he made it to the kitchen where his step-mother was staring out the window and looking out to backyard. A small swing was fashioned from one of the sturdier branches.

Someone was on it, a large male – by the looks of their silhouette – and their head was bowed from their view.

They kept swinging low and slowly, as if they didn’t have the energy to go any higher or faster. But right as Alfred entered behind them all – the swing movements slowed almost to nothing in immediate response to his presence. The wind blew and their head lifted to see a dark face, revealing blood red eyes.

It could have been a trick of the light, but there looked like dark streaks under their glowing orbs. Their face was blank at first, but as the swing finally stilled – their mouth pulled back in a snarl. The figure in the swing made to stand, roughly, all but shoving themselves from the swing set - The wind blew - And their head fell off of their shoulders.

Alfred screamed at the same time his step-mother did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you guys gave such a positive response so here it is. i'm gonna hope i can update this story every month or so, so yeah
> 
> Wow. This story turned out to be a lot darker than I thought it would be. I have most of this planned out and guys – this is no funny shits and giggles ghost story. It’s not a boohoo I died for my lover story either. There’s a lot of violence. And rage. And lies, lots of lies – lies, lies, lies, it’s all just full of lies!  
> But mostly just violence.  
> I’m (not) even sorry for adding this to RusAme archive. This story will test some of your faith in this fandom and your heart and then have you question why the Hell I was ever given time to be at a computer, much less working on a fanfiction this dark -


	2. A Silver Bell for the Death Toll

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is a scene of attempted sexual assault - it's brief and dissolved, but if that's a trigger, then this warning is for you. Also, this chapter features some slut shaming and other various insults, as well as minor blood and violence.

Alfred didn’t really know why he had screamed. Sure he knew that ghosts scared the living daylights out of him and on more than one occasion his friends and step-brother would play pranks on him to go to supposedly haunted houses or wear makeup and dress up as the dead – but this.

No, this was real. Very real – and this ghost - spirit - in the backyard. He was out for blood. He wanted somebody’s life. He wanted another body to drag into his grave.

The teen’s theory was proven as the ghost appeared at the window, eyes still red as blood and mouth ripped open and unhinged to a bestow a horrid blackness. Pale fingers gripped at the windowsill as the spirit looked like he was trying to force himself through the unyielding glass.

Someone was shaking him, screaming his name, but Alfred couldn’t move. He just kept staring into those awful red eyes, hearing nothing but an awful high-pitched screech like nails on a chalkboard and he felt nothing but this awful cold around him. Suddenly no one else was in the kitchen with him, only him and the angry ghost.

Then the sound that rang around the world -

The window finally gave in and shattered completely as long and pale fingers reached out as the spirit lunged forward with a roar. Alfred finally found his legs obeying him to duck for the ground. But he lost his footing and his head came into sharp contact with the island counter instead. A single hard throb of pain as he went down and a shadow loomed over his entire fallen form.

**[-]**

He woke up on the floor, covered in cold sweat, as his family was all crowded over him. It was daylight out. The birds were chirping and some squirrel was running amuck and causing a slight disturbance in the bird’s nesting.

Alfred tried to regain his breath. He was pale and shaking horribly. His step-mother reached out to touch him and he flinched in on himself, cowering into his raised knees as he curled up on his body. His step-brother frowned, as his father tried to grab his shoulders firmly. “Al – breathe. Come on, buddy, calm down so we can know what’s wrong.”

But Alfred couldn’t speak. He looked dead ahead – behind his father’s hunched form over him. That figure from the vision was standing right there. But his eyes weren’t red anymore, a mysterious violet color, and his skin looked better than its old gray shade. His expression was one of venom and spiteful pity. He turned his cold gaze away as he turned on a heel and vanished.

Alfred whimpered as his parents called out to him. He was shaking even worse now. Call him crazy – but he had a feeling that wouldn’t be the last occurrence with the ghost at all.

And a few days later, he found himself proven right.

It was breakfast time on a weekend and Alfred had slept in while his parents had set out for more groceries and his historically attracted step-brother set outside to explore more of the property. Alfred had chosen to stay in bed but eventually his stomach made him get up.

He had just put a bowl and spoon on the island counter and was ruffling in the pantry for his favorite cereal when he felt a disturbance in the air. He leaned out of the pantry space to get a better look, but without his glasses, he couldn’t very well see much. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary and he shrugged, making a noise to himself as he went back to getting his cereal. Then he froze.

He jumped out of the pantry and stalked over to the island counter for a closer look. His bowl was not there. He started to say, “What the fuc-“

When, suddenly, the bowl crashed down on the floor right next to his right side at his feet. He jumped at the sudden clatter of broken porcelain and yelped as he accidentally stepped on a shard. He hissed in a breath, grabbing at his foot as he hopped on one foot in his boxers. “Ow, ouch, damn it, shit, fuck me -!”

Alfred was immediately belt forward over the island counter by a pair of strong invisible hands at his hips. His arms were stolen from him, held above and behind his head, as his legs were spread apart forcefully and a frigid breath puffed at his ear. Tingles ran up his spine, as a familiar sense of anticipation almost smacked him in the face – well, that is until Alfred’s brain caught up the present and he flipped his shit and tried to get away.

"Holy shit -" the teen breathed and tried to fight back, only to catch his foot on the counter’s base meeting the floor and slipping to fall back on his hip painfully, skin pierced further by even tinier pieces of glass. He whimpered slightly, eyes wide and unfocused as he looked around.

The only thing to be seen in the kitchen was a blur by the kitchen sink. It looked really tall – and the mush of colors didn’t help in deciding whether it was friend or foe. The sight of red dots set at the top, however, were the final weight in the tipping scale.

Alfred suddenly decided that he didn’t have an appetite anymore, jumping up and fixing his slightly disheveled boxers – the only thing he had worn to bed besides the dog tags he had gotten for one birthday – and high-tailed it to his room. Right as he made to shut the door, he called out, “I’m not interested in whatever you’re selling, buddy! Leave me alone!”

He slammed the door shut – and then held his breath for anything to happen to him. The lights to flicker off and on, the walls to groan or ooze green slime – no wait, wrong universe, this was not SpongeBob - nothing happened. Not even a sniffle or shuffle outside the door. He almost thought his step-brother had been playing a trick on him until he heard his voice outside his window.

Frowning and going to see what the other wanted, Alfred lifted the window.

“What?” He said a bit irritably. Then his eyes widened a bit as he leaned out a bit precariously out the windowsill. “Mathew. What is that?”

"Yeah, isn’t it cool?" Matthew beamed, absolutely glowing with pride. "You’re looking at an about eighteenth or maybe early nineteenth century religious artifact!"

"…It’s a fucking old dirt-covered cross, dude," Alfred said. His step-brother was such an idiot. "Get over yourself and get out of the dirt. You know you’re too old to be digging in the dirt for whatever historical shit you think you’ll find here."

Matthew glared at Alfred, “Shut up, you’re not the boss of me! I’m older than you!”

"Yeah, because your mom was a whore in high school. That and she’s about ten years older than my dad," Alfred confirmed.

Matthew’s face fell slightly and he lowered the old cross, as his visage darkened. It was a low blow but such was Alfred’s favorite when he felt he had to deal with his annoying step-brother. Alfred continued on, not even caring if he had hurt the other teen’s feelings, “And guess what – I still don’t give any more of a shit than I did when I practically beat you in anything that mattered.”

"Grades matter, Al," the other snarled. "You do know that mom and dad are expecting you to pull those up, otherwise you won’t have any of your ugly friends for the summer."

Ouch. While Alfred wouldn’t have minded the painful jab at his friends – they weren’t ugly, they just happened to have some ‘ugly traits’, as labeled by society, about them – his experience in the kitchen had made him irritable. That and he was still hungry.

Alfred’s narrowed his eyes, snarling, “Fuck off, dweeb – Once an ass-kisser, forever an ass-kisser, and so I do not have time for people as worthless as you.” With that said, he glared and then shut the window down hard. He shut the curtains, taking a shaking angry breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was sure to get a tongue lashing from one of his parents, most likely from his step-mother, about cursing out his step-brother later or for leaving the broken bowl on the kitchen floor. Whatever. Like Alfred was actually going back outside his room to confront that angry ghost to clean up some broken dish – yeah right and fuck that.

Still fuming and deciding to call up someone on his computer for a video call to vent until he realized that his parents hadn’t set up the internet at this house yet. He grumbled under his breath. He checked the time on his phone – a little after one in the afternoon, something that surprised Alfred. He hadn’t stayed up all that late, had he? He couldn’t really remember…

Shaking off the thought in favor of screaming out an exclamation as he found he had a pretty decent phone signal for being out in the middle of nowhere with no wifi, he called up his best buddy back in sweet home California.

It rang once – and a gruff voice answered, “Al, my man – ‘sup? Ya dyin’ of boredom, yet?”

Alfred grinned as he threw himself to lie back on his bed.

“Who are you tellin’, Kole? There’s not even internet here, the dumb broad said she’d do it sometime this week – but I’m gonna see if I can get my dad to do sooner, like today or so.” His grin stretched even further as he kicked out his feet to some rhythm. “You wanna come out here and keep me company?”

"You just want some pot," Mathias laughed. "But I’mma try, Al, but no promises. Dad’s been a real dick lately, ‘cos Ber-head made the honor roll again and I didn’t take after him. Tch," the Dane scoffed. "Why do I gotta follow my cousin, adopted cousin at that, though? I was like: ‘Nah, pops, I’ll pass.’”

Alfred scoffed too, “Man, your dad sucks. I been told my dad that if I wanted A-honor roll that I would have gotten it. I still think I do better than you though, at least I don’t go to sleep in class…that often.”

He and Mathias shared another laugh, a bit of gossip spilling in about Alfred’s ex-girlfriend. “Al, dude, you’re not gonna believe this – the bitch is already goin’ out with another dude, like right after you left, I think, after she was blowing up Twitter and talking about how much she ‘missed you.’” He tsk’d the other teen, “I told you she was a thot, a basic one at that.”

Alfred snarled, and then huffed. “Ugh, I hope she didn’t give me anything…I bet you she lied when she said she was a virgin, too.”

"Al, dude, you lied to me when you said you were a virgin," Mathias pointed out, probably grinning with his shark-like teeth. "And wait – you two had sex? Why was I not told about this, you little shit, you were holdin’ out on me…?”

Alfred laughed, rolling over onto his stomach to be more comfortable. “Kole, please, technically I was a virgin – I’d never been with a guy outside of you and you’re still the only guy I’ve let get in my ass, so chill. But nah, she sucked me off behind the bleachers. But we had to be quick so we didn’t get caught.”

Mathias made a sound, probably still grinning, “You better not be cheatin’ on me, Jones, I’ll trap yo ass like the drug game.” Alfred laughed aloud at that, and Mathias joined him.

"Boy – you cray cray," Alfred joked along, "Shiiit, you probably got some other bitch on da side, don’t play me."

"Nah, shawty," Mathias said, and his tongue piercing accidentally caught on his teeth and the last syllable came off as almost a hiss, making a small rise of color rise to Alfred’s cheek as he heard it. "You the only one I fuck with, dem other hoes been tryin’ to get me, but my heart only belong to you."

"It better," Alfred said, pitching his voice a little higher, even making the dramatic look of pursing his lips and rolling his eyes despite how Mathias couldn’t see either. "If I find out otherwise, not only am I gonna cut a bitch, I’mma cut yo dick off. I ain’t got da time to be playin’ games with lil’ boys, I need me a grown man."

Mathias laughed aloud again, “Oh no, nah, you fuckin’ with a grown-ass man with a big ass dick.”

"A dick that had betta get ready to pay child support unless he wanna stop bustin’ condoms," Alfred said, rolling his eyes and sucking his teeth. "I don’t need to be raisin’ no kids when I ain’t got my diploma or move outta my daddy’s house yet."

"Okay, you can stop now, I’m getting kinda scared," Mathias said. "That and I keep tellin’ you, I have no idea why they bust, I get the largest kind they have, you see me put it on, so I don’t know why -"

The other teen was cut off as Alfred heard a loud bell ring over the line. Mathias swore under his breath, “Shit, my bad, Al, my break ended sooner than I thought, so I’ll text you later on my way home.” Alfred clucked his tongue.

"Wait until you get home, dude," the American advised. "You almost hit a tree that one time you tried to text and drive."

"Not my fault, that tree came out of nowhere," Mathias tried to say. "And my driving is fine, Mr. No-License."

"Dude – we went from the right lane and right almost into a big-ass oak tree on the side of the road," Alfred pointed out. “How’d it come outta nowhere?”

"…shut up," Mathias added lamely. "But yeah, I gotta go, text ya later, shawty!"

With that, the Dane hung up and Alfred was left to roll his eyes at the phone. He thought about sending a text then before he forgot or Mathias forgot, but then thought better of it. He saw the numerous boxes he had still yet to unpack and put away and sighed.

And he was still hungry on top of it all.

**[-]**

About two, maybe three, hours later – Alfred had showered in his own bathroom and was now looking at a significantly less cramped room. He smiled at his work even though he knew that the room wouldn’t stay clean for long. He knew that very well. Ah well, at least he would able to tell his dad that he had tried.

While his laptop played an old rock band on repeat, he was trying to finish up by putting up his old photos on his mini-billboard to hang up on the wall when he turned his back on the box for a second and then turned back around to find one of his more beloved photos missing. Like his sweet sixteen party, when he had gone to the water park with Mathias, him and a couple of his old girlfriends, and then collage of photos of back when it was just him and both his actual parents before his mom had died.

"Huh? Now, where did I put that thing…?" Alfred asked aloud. He checked the bed and inside the box again, frowning to himself. He was checking under the bed and about to scratch his head and check the closet to see if he’d misplaced it with something else, when he raised his head and saw the album back on the bed.

His eyes brightened, worry evaporating, “Oh! There it is!”

He reached out to grab it and the album was literally snatched before he could even touch it. He blinked and then glared, as he turned to snap at the open space of his room. “Hey, fuck off, my mom’s – my real mom, not that dumb broad my dad married – in that album, leave her alone.”

There was silence and when Alfred tried to get the album again, he sighed, as he was allowed to take it. A sad but fond look came to his face as he opened the worn book and the first picture was of him and his late mother.

They were making ‘kissy faces’ to the camera, when Alfred had been about five or so, and her bright brown eyes clashed against his blue ones as they both crinkled with delight. Her natural browned skin somehow fit against his rosy freckled one in the photo. Her usually dark braided hair was out as it fell over her shoulders and slightly over the top of Alfred’s small head.

The picture was taken at his sixth birthday party, only a couple of years before she would be diagnosed with ovarian cancer after she miscarried his would-have-been baby sister, and then three more years before she would lose the fight for her life when she caught a form of sepsis after what had been proclaimed a ‘successful operation’ to remove the final tumors.

Only a couple more years before his father would try and replace her with some older cougar with an annoying son that thought he knew everything.

Alfred shook his head, trying to swallow down the pain that looking at his mother’s face brought him, and he turned the page. His eyes met the picture of her hanging a red-faced Mathias upside down and crying, as she had been caught scolding him for breaking her special potted pot with her grandmother’s ashes. Alfred’s child self was standing off to the side, finger to his lip, and slightly guilty as he held his baseball mitt.

He turned his head to glance at the next picture and found it to be Alfred with his neighbor’s old dog, both covered in nearly insane amounts of mud, as they tore through the backyard. Alfred smiled a little, remembering that day. His mother sure had had a good time in trying to get him clean again.

He was about to turn another page when he heard noises coming down the hallway and recognized Matthew’s voice. Said step-brother peeked his nosy head into the room and whistled, “Wow, so you finally unpacked. About time – hey, uh, I had to clean up some broken dish in the kitchen – any idea how that happened?”

"Nope," Alfred said, popping his lips.

 He turned the page and saw a captured moment of Alfred and his dad trying to put together dreamcatchers after his mother’s example. Neither of theirs looked close to as great as her looked, although Alfred still thought his had looked better than his dad’s – at least his colors had matched somewhat.

Back in reality, Matthew huffed, “Whatever, but Mom’s home -“

"She’s not my mother," Alfred said, distantly, and glancing to the other page.

The picture was of Alfred when he was a little older with his mother cooking at the stove, and making some sort of cornbread mixture with actual Indian corn if the cobs on the side were any evidence. Alfred had made a mess of the counter but his mom wasn’t making a face at it like his step-mother would have. Instead the woman was taking it in stride as she smiled at him and wiped his nose as he batted her with flour-covered hands.

" - Again, whatever," Matthew said, although a bit of hurt had trickled into his words. "But yeah, she’s gonna get the internet done tomorrow, she was too tired from her errands today to do anything else."

"She never does anything she’s supposed to, anyways," Alfred cut in, as he sighed a bit irritably and shut the album with a soft sound and went to find the bookshelf that he had claimed since it had already been in the room.

"Al, come on," his step-brother whined and Alfred had to resist the urge to knock the other upside the head with the album in his head. No. His mother did not deserve such an insult. Alfred tossed an old book instead.

"What do you even want, loser," Alfred snapped, his hand threatening to take another book out to toss at the other if he didn’t give a worthy answer. But anything that came out of Matthew’s mouth was something that Alfred found unworthy, so the older teen would still get hit either way. "Better say something quick – before Lord of the Flies wants to be acquainted with your dipshit skull."

Matthew glared at the other, adjusting his glasses and then fixing his hair to hide the red mark on his forehead. “I was gonna say that Mom’s giving me the keys so I could drive us to the mall and maybe hang out for a while.”

Alfred thought it over, frowning. He didn’t want to take anything his step-mother gave him, not even a ride, because she always found a way to rub it back in his face when she wanted him to do something.

_‘Ugh – Alfred, your room is so dirty! How can you live like this! Had I been your mother, you would have stopped this after a good spanking when you were little! I let you do -blah blah or hang out with blah blah or have blah blah over – I didn’t have to! Now you clean this room up this instant or I will tell your father!’_

Like Alfred ever listened to her, he would only toss his dirty clothes like three-point shots to his laundry basket after his dad came in to briefly tell him to _‘get his shit together and stop showing out to his step-mother.’_

"I think I’ll pass," he said, turning his back as he went to put up another book, "I’m waiting on someone to call me back."

He went back to his computer, changed the album to a more recent one and then went back to updating his bookshelf. Matthew groaned from the doorway, leaning into the room but not letting his feet cross the threshold as he gripped the doorway.

"Oh, come on, you know you wanna get out of the house," Matthew said and then added, "Come on, I don’t wanna go out alone, and you’re not even doing anything, wait, hey – I’ll pay for lunch, how’s that? Anything off the menu, even McDonald’s. C’mon, you never pass up on free food. Ever."

Alfred turned around slowly, narrowing his eyes, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Matthew blinked at the change and then he caught the almost silent implication in his words. “N-nothing is all, you just don’t pass up on free food is all. Do you wanna go to the mall or not?” He tried again, “C’mon, I’m driving and paying for the lunch, you won’t get a better deal.”

"Had you been Mathias, even without the free food and free ride," Alfred said, turning back around to finish his job with the bookshelf. "I would have jumped at the offer. But you’re not Mathias. You’re not any of my friends. You’re not even my friend, much less anyone I wanna hang out with. Fuck off."

After being dealt such another low blow, the other teen huffed, “Fine then. I’m telling Mom to tell Dad about what you did last summer -“

The book that came across Matthew’s face knocked his glasses clean off his face as he yelped in pain and then the force actually made him stumble and fall down, tears beading in his eyes as Alfred stomped over to his form and roughly grabbed at his collar before he could get up, “Tell them and I will fucking murder you. I’ll go, alright, just keep your mouth shut.”

Matthew glared back at the other, slapping at Alfred’s hand, wiping his face, “Fine, I’ll get the keys – put on a shirt and we’ll go.”

Alfred scowled, walking away and going over to his closet as Matthew got up and dusted himself off before leaving, and the American shut his door for extra security. He ran his hand through his hair, his mood bordering on angry now that he was reminded of how his nosy step-brother had been the one to have caught him blowing off Mathias in his unlocked bedroom while the entire room smelled richly of the marijuana that they had lit up earlier.

Alfred wished his dad or his step-mother had just caught him in the act. He could have just gotten the situation and embarrassment over with – versus Matthew using the secret to his advantage and gaining all kinds of things from Alfred. It sucked in all honesty.

Alfred sighed, as he grabbed a shirt from a hanger and put it on, checking a few things on him before he shoved his foot in one shoe and grabbed his phone from the charger. He turned off his computer whilst putting on the other shoe before he was out the door.

He sighed as he saw how his dad hadn’t gotten back from his errands yet so his step-mother was trying to cook dinner. He made a mental note to take Matthew up on his offer of lunch and just order the whole menu if he was hungry enough so he could have leftovers for the night. It wasn’t that he didn’t like his step-mother’s cooking…he just didn’t like her cooking for him. He didn’t really like much about her really.

He walked down the stairs, avoiding eye contact, as he said, “I’ll be going out with Matthew, be back later.”

"Hold it."

Fuck, Alfred wanted to scream in exasperation. First, it was Matthew calling his attention about some stupid thing in the backyard and then how he basically threatened blackmail - and now this. What next? The ghost was going to appear out of nowhere?

He shouldn’t have spoken so soon.

The ghost was right beside his step-mother as the woman warned him about curfew and how she didn’t want the teens to come so late after dark even if they called ahead and blah blah blah – but Alfred’s attention was on the near transparent form behind the woman. It was staring almost nostalgic at something outside, an almost longing expression, and then it turned -

And its red eyes pierced into Alfred’s very soul, its entire expression twitched and then it snarled and vanished with a gust of cold air.

Alfred’s step-mother shivered at the disappearance, she looked behind her and saw nothing, “What were you staring at?”

"N-nothing," Alfred managed to get out, as he turned on his heel to hurry up and get out. She was trying to call him back to say more but the spooked teen shouted over, "Yeah, yeah, be back before the street lights, I got it, jeez!"

Alfred practically jumped into the car, buckling up in the passenger seat, as he plugged in his earphones to his phone and simply tried to will the goosebumps and his furious heart beat to go down. Matthew cast a look at him, raising a brow, as he shrugged and started the car and turned around slightly in the seat to get a view of what was behind him before he backed out of the dirt driveway and pulled into the curve and simply made to drive out of the property.

Alfred didn’t open his eyes for seeing red ones, until they hit the road to take them into the nearby city. When he opened them, he still felt like he could feel those eyes behind him and watching so intently as to memorize the way he breathed so they could reach out and strangle him at just the right moment -

"Al?" Matthew said, unbuckling himself. They were in the parking lot of the mall. "You okay? You seem pale…"

Alfred brushed off his hands, but his voice was shaky as he tried to get the other to leave him alone before he got out of the car.

He shut the door behind him, taking a deep breath of the air and letting it fill his lungs, before he began walking to the mall entrance. He was going to relax – no point in freaking out in public. The ghost couldn’t follow him here?

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELPFUL HINT: Alfred calls Mathias (Denmark) – ‘Kole’ – after his last name ‘Kohler’, since in this AU, Mathias is a Junior to his dad, hence some of the bad relations. (Mathias Aleks Kohler Jr., if anyone cares)
> 
> HELPFUL HINT 2: I like the idea of Native America as Alfred’s mother. I mean, she doesn’t play much of a huge role right now, but her appearances and influences show in how Alfred’s attitude towards the situations and other people. But no, you won’t see her ghost in this story, that ain’t me.
> 
> You want another story to compare this to? Try ‘Lullaby’ by VioletLolitaPop. This is just like that but without a lot of giggles and the (if you squint really really really hard) slight slash. This story is a heart breaker.


	3. In My Shadow There Lies A Threat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the mall leads to an unsettling discovery in memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies on this being so late, some situations on my side left me without muse and little energy to for much besides work.   
> WARNINGS: Minor violence.

Alfred looked around the mall. It wasn't as good as anything that his sweet Cali could offer him, but still pretty good. He was currently in some music shop, checking out of a few of his favorite bands and looking over the CDs. Good prices, great prices and holy shit - a sale for buy one and get 2 free. Oh yes, he could see himself growing to like his existence in this town just for this one shop.

He was seeing the light.

Right as some brat tried to steal his wallet from his back pocket. Being the California-born he was and having grown up around some of Los Angeles' not-so-nice laws of the streets. The first thing he did was kick out the brat's stomach and make his escape very painful. He furthered this by snatching the brat and doing as his mother had taught him, hanging the little kid by his ankles and shaking him. "Give me back my wallet, you little shit."

"Ah! Arthur, he-help!" The little kid began crying as multiple things began to fall from his person. Candy, key chain balls, little trinkets and a few coins. Even a poorly re-wrapped lollipop with some pocket lint stuck to it. The brat was crying louder now as Alfred continued to shake him until he dropped his prized video-game themed wallet.

That had been a gift from Mathias and it had a lot of money in it, along with his credit and debit cards; even his ID passes to get on his mother’s family’s reservation plot. He was not about to let some brat pickpocket him without a fight.

"Hey! What the fucking Hell are you doing with my brother?"

Alfred was scowling as his wallet was finally dropped. He put the kid right side up as he snapped at him in tongue of his mother's blood, making the whimpering boy shrivel back into the nearby column even as the kid’s supposed hero 'Arthur' finally came down from several stores down. Alfred picked up his wallet, putting it back into his pocket, still scowling even as Arthur glared at him.

"What the Hell!" Arthur snarled and he looked ready to hit someone. Alfred couldn't help but to notice the piercings and punk rockish clothing, and the light eyeliner on Arthur. Great. He was dealing with a punk rocker, just fabulous. Alfred tried to think of a something to tell his dad if he got into a fight with the other.

However, he found himself surprised when Arthur took to snatching the little kid by his collar, "You fucking idiot, it's bad enough you do this, but to get caught? Yeah, you better bet your arse, I'm telling mum now, I'm sick of dealing with always having to watch your arse do stupid stunts like this."

He dropped the kid on his behind, making the younger glare up at him and snap, "Yeah, well, I'll tell mum that you -ah- I'll tell her something! Then, you'll be sorry!"

Arthur glared back at the kid, bending down slightly to his level, "And see if I give half a shit and she doesn't beat you for lying to her face." The little kid paled and his eyes got big at that, as he whined and dusted himself off. Arthur rose back to his full height which was only a couple of inches shorter than Alfred. "Ahem, sorry about my little brother, uh, Peter, he's an idiot."

"H-hey!" The little kid apparently named Peter piped up. Arthur gave him a swift but dark look to shut up and the kid went quiet right quick. Alfred watched the exchange with slight amusement. It kind of reminded him of him and Mathew.

"Anyways, sorry about him, I was down the way and I assumed he was right behind me," Arthur said, although as he said the last part, he had turned to glare at Peter again, emphasizing his ire. Peter shrank in on himself, face growing redder, as he pouted.

Arthur sighed, "Did you get everything that he -ah- tried to take?" Alfred nodded silently, just wanting the conversation to be done with. Arthur sighed, looking down at the floor for a bit before glaring back at Peter, and then holding out his hand. "I know this is awkward, believe me, I know. My name's Arthur, though, Arthur Kirkland."

Alfred tried to muster up a smile – found that he couldn't – and settled for a thin-lipped expression that was at least better than his previous scowl, "I'm Alfred F. Jones."

Arthur frowned, tilting his head a bit and Alfred found his hair to be a bit darker at the roots. Arthur bleached his hair? He had looked like a natural blond. Huh. That was interesting. Along the three cartilage piercings (two themed for the United Kingdom flag and one for Batman) at the top of one ear. "Jones, I've heard that name before...oh yeah, your family moved into the old place by Mulberry Road?"

"Yeah," Alfred replied, "That's us. It's big as shit, we don't need all of the space and I have no idea what either of my parents were thinking." Arthur chuckled, starting to smile a bit, and for some reason, Alfred felt just a bit of the tension from earlier dissipate.

"I imagine so," Arthur said, "What grade are you? I'm guessing on your age here, but will you be enrolling into the Leak or Jackson high school?"

"Leak," Alfred said and at seeing Arthur's face, he continued, "Why? You go there too? Is it a bad school or something?"

Arthur's smile started to turn into a grin, "Yes, I do attend there... But no, it's not a bad school. Although… We do tend to prank Jackson if just to piss them off."

Alfred grinned back, "I think I'm gonna like this Leak school."

“I think I’m going to like you, Jones,” Arthur replied, shoving all but his thumbs into his pockets. He took a step back as he grinned, showing off the lip piercing, and then clicking his tongue at Peter. “Sorry to cut our talk short, but I’m gonna take my little brother home before he tries to pull any more shit.” He gave Peter another glare.

“Not fair!” Peter tried to argue, stamping his foot as he glared right back at the older blond. Alfred watched in slight interest, glancing between the two. Neither of the brothers seemed to be paying too much mind to him or his watching. “You promised to buy me candy!”

“If you fucking paid attention to our deal, when I said it,” Arthur snarled, snatching the younger boy’s hand and starting to drag him away. “That was only if you quit being a brat in the stores and actually behaved! You couldn’t even do that right so don’t start crying because you couldn’t uphold your own part of the deal.” Arthur straightened, frowning. “Whatever, we’re going home now; I don’t care what you want.”

Arthur caught Alfred’s eyes, managed a slight grin, “See you in school, Monday, Jones. Welcome to the town.” Then he was walking away, after turning his back with a few more words to Peter.

Alfred watched him go, shrugged and went back to his music searching. He managed to pick out a few new CDs, proud of his purchases and then left the music store to wander around. He peeked at the lingerie shop, walked into a Spencer’s and got a new T-shirt, and then strolled around a Hot Topic and contemplated buying a hoodie of one of his favorite shows, but decided against it.

It was while he was on his way to the food court that he got a text from Mathias back in California. It read: ‘ _Dad pissed i came home late like pfft smdh gtfo srsly’_

Alfred rolled his eyes, remembering how despite the speed devil in him, when it came to coming home, the Dane took his time in getting home. Truth be told he just hadn’t felt comfortable coming back to his own house since his father had taken in Berwald. He said once upon a time when Alfred asked him for a billionth time that things between them had changed but not for the better. Neither of them spoke of his mother. She was an untouchable subject and for good reason.

Alfred sighed shortly as he sat down at some minute table, intending on getting up on his shopping for a moment, when it seemed Mathew was not arriving to buy them lunch as promised. He gave the short text to said step-brother and then texted back Mathias to tell him that he’d need to pull through it at least until a school break and then they could visit and help each other out. It was pretty much the most advice that Alfred could offer now - wait for breaks - because  there was no way that his step-mother would let him drive to California without a license for a ‘friend’ that she ‘didn’t even like.’

A few texts between him and the Dane later and Mathew showed up. Alfred glanced up after hearing his voice to see the other blond chatting with some middle-toned overset guy trying to boast about something or another. Alfred blinked, completely uninterested, and went back to his phone.

Good to see his step-brother making friends, maybe now he would leave Alfred the Hell alone.

Then it happened: Alfred got a phone call. He frowned as he didn’t recognize the number; it was some kind of private number so he ignored it. A short second later and the cell phone rang again. Again, Alfred sent it to voicemail.

On the third time that the anonymous number called and was still refusing to give an actual number versus just the ‘private call’ message and Alfred made to end the call before it got past the second ring.

But the line opened instead, despite how Alfred knew he had pressed the red END key. The first thing Alfred heard was someone breathing softly on the other end. It was soft, paced, simple and an even breath. It was sort of like that of a sleeping body.

He frowned, about to open his mouth, when the other person responded, “…sweet dreams.” A dark chuckle came forth and the line went dead… But no, there came something of a screech.

Then, the line went dead. It was like they hung up. Alfred stared at the phone, confused, and then shrugged.

“Who was that?” Mathew asked, coming over. He looked concerned but Alfred brushed it off.

“Nothing, just some dipshit tryin’ to be funny,” Alfred replied, pocketing the phone. “You know what I like, hop to it, dude.” Mathew’s concern fell as he shook his head, scowling softly, as he walked off. His larger friend frowned at Alfred and then went to keep his step-brother company in the lunch line. Alfred rolled his eyes at the exchange as Mathew’s mood brightened up. He made to fake a gag, but decided against it. He simply went back to texting.

He entertained himself in a game of Candy Crush and texting Mathias as he waited on his step-brother to bring back his order. He thought he felt a prickle at his neck, like an unspoken warning, he put the game on pause so that he could look back. There was no one behind him.

Shaking off the slight bad feeling in his stomach, he tried to gauge how long Mathew would be in the line. He was getting further up, about the third or fourth person. Fifteen minutes, he assumed, getting up from his chair and stretching minutely as he tried to pop his shoulder. Then, he started off, intending to check out another store and entertain himself in the meantime. His step-brother would be fine without him. And if he wasn’t, it was his own fault.

**[-]**

Alfred wandered down the store lines, sometimes smiling back at the pretty girls greeting him with authentic Southern accents and nodding briefly to the not-so pretty girls trying to garner some attention for their job. It wasn’t until he had gone down a line of particularly interesting alligator and cameos that he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Thinking it was his step-brother with his food, he answered it on the first vibration, “Yo?”

“ _–it’s the youngin, master sir, I can’t even fin’ ‘im! He don’ got outta his room and I know I was’a ‘posed to watch ‘im like ya said but –“_

“Wait what?” Alfred blurted, honestly confused at the old slang and the unrecognizable voice. The line went dead. Before he could even register what had just transpired in his brain, his phone rang out. It was actually rang with his step-brother’s ringtone and all, he was greeted with Mathew’s whine.

“Where are you? I am sooo not holding your food forever,” he complained. “Get your butt back over here before I throw it away.” The blond scoffed at that.

“Like you have money to throw away like that,” he snarked, backtracking his steps back to the food court. He took notice of a clock overhanging over his head. His eyes widened at seeing the time and he found himself near gaping at the clock. Nearly two hours – what?

“I what? Jeez, Al, just c’mon, I’ve been calling you forever and you never picked up.” Mathew replied, he almost sounded scared. Concerned? No, never, Mathew just didn’t want to get in trouble; he wasn’t concerned about Alfred. He never had been. It was all just a matter of staying on top of his parents’ Golden Child list. He only wanted to make sure Alfred always looked like the bad son…

A bad son.

Something tried to lodge in Alfred’s throat but he swallowed it down, coming up on the edge of the food court. he scanned the heads for his step-brother, spotting him, and started walking forward. He ran a hand through his hair, almost starting as he thought he felt some kind of stiff stick behind his ear… He ran his hand through it again and felt nothing. Weird. Whatever.  He had food now, even if it was cold and Mathew bitched at him while he tried to eat.

“How do you just go off and not tell anyone?” He was using his hands now, his stupid woven wristbands and digital watch moving on his arms. Oh, look, he was wearing his Drug-Free bracelet, wasn’t that just cute. “Especially for two hours! Dude,  what the heck! I thought you had gotten snatched or something, I-!”

“I’m from Los Angeles, shut up,” Alfred said around a bite of his burger.  The other looked disgusted, acting as if he had been spit on. Alfred continued, “Plus I took MMA for like six years, they’d never get a grip on me.”

“Whatever, Al,” the other sighed defeated, almost dramatically, “Just hurry up so we can get home. I had to fib to Mom that we were still window-shopping and we had gotten caught up.”

Alfred faked an exaggerated look of shock, a hand to his mouth, even topping the look off with a high pitched and accented, “Really? Like you totally did that? You lied to your mom! Wow, like, I never knew you had it in you, Mattie!” He dropped the façade, getting up to throw his trash away.

Mathew glared at his back, “Yeah, well, unlike you, I don’t lie for everything! I can try to be honest!”

Alfred rolled his eyes, brushing off the words as he usually did. So what, he lied. Everyone lied every now and again, there was a time and place for a lie. Always been was and always had been.  It just so happened that lying was often became a balm for him.

No, it had become his balm. It was the only thing to scrape the layer of hurt. Lies and denial. He was full of the shit.

“Alfred? Hello – Earth to jerkwad, are you even listening to me?”

“No, I wasn’t,” the blond answered honestly, he laughed at that in his mind. “Can we hurry up and get going if you’re so worried about your stupid broad?” Once again, Mathew was glaring at him, even going so far as to throw his tea away harshly, nearly spilling some as he tossed it into the trash. Alfred suddenly took note of his friend from earlier frowning at him. He caught his gaze and broke eye contact, muttering low Spanish.

…. _You is stupid asshole_ …

“Your grammar sucks,” Alfred purposely blurted at the heftier one. The larger teen started, surprised, but then narrowed his dark eyes and got up from the table to say in a gruff accented English, “You suck as company.”

“Glad to know I could drive you away,” Alfred replied, still sitting as he looked at the tan one. He narrowed his own eyes, preparing for a fight. “Maybe you’ll stay gone.”

Said company glared, clenching their fists but backed down as Mathew came back. Alfred’s step-brother took one look at the table and groaned, rubbing at his temples. “Ugh, I so don’t have time for this. Al, let’s just go.” He glanced apologetically, “Sorry, Carlos, I did warn you.”

Carlos – the large boy had a name now – smirked, “I could take ‘em, he’s nothin’ like the boys back at the Bronx!”  Mathew smiled again and Alfred rolled his eyes again. Gross. His step-brother was turning pink over some greasy frat boy with dirty looking dreads. Wow and Alfred thought he could teach the other to have good taste. There goes that hope.

“Well, see you around,” Alfred continued to gag all the way as he walked out of the food court and started heading towards the exit to get back to the car. Mathew could have his romance for while it lasted, not that it would last long from what he had gathered over the years.  Mathew would remember his religion and how his mother was a huge homophobic bitch and probably cry and break up or not even start the relationship for thinking he was “sinning.”

What a bunch of bull.

He checked his phone, sighing at the amount of text messages he had missed. Two whole hours… there was no way he had been walking for two hours and not even noticed. He could be oblivious, but that was just a front to keep people off his case, he knew when to be observant. He checked his pockets, all of his monies were still there, his phone obviously, he wasn’t missing anything…

His phone rang with his dad’s face, the older Jones trying to throw up a deuce sign or something or other, with large pineapple shades from some cheap souvenir shop back in Cali. Alfred gulped slightly as he opened the line, but his voice didn’t waver, “Yeah?”

“Excuse me?”

The blond knew when to kiss ass and now was a good time to start smooching tail, “Hello, sir…”

“Better – where the Hell are you two?” He began, already sounding frustrated and he might be just the slightest bit pissed. Oh boy, that was a bad combo. “Lorraine said you guys were supposed to be back hours ago – the sky’s dark as shit now, how the Hell are you planning to get home?”

Great. He had been talking to his step-mother; she was probably exaggerating the time length, no points for guessing in hearing her stretch the truth. As per usual when Alfred was involved.

“-‘cos I know for a damn fact that you can’t drive, Al. Mathew has about as much good vision at night as a blind man in the fucking labyrinth. You’d both lose your glasses if they weren’t on your face,” he snapped. “What the Hell am I going to do with you? This is that stupid bullshit that I’m talking about – you don’t listen!”

Alfred bit back on his tongue, no point in arguing, just let his dad vent and get it over with. He’d have less to have against him when he got home. Just wait it out. “Look, Dad, I’m sorry. Blame it on me, I was just-“

“Damn right I’m gonna blame you,” his father snarled. “Mathew’s got a record of being on time. You? Not so much,” the elder Jones scoffed himself and Alfred remained silent, turning over the spit on his tongue, simply bidding his time.

“Nothing to say?”

“No sir,” the younger said with his voice still firm. Mathew was walking up to his side now. He almost looked apologetic at hearing the conversation. He had probably been listening in from a distance, the nosy snitch.

“We’ll finish this conversation when you get home,” the older said. “Just get your asses here now. You’re both up shit creek.”

_More like I’m up shit creek and Mathew’s going to get off scot free again_ , Alfred thought as he had listened to his father’s words. He knew what they meant. The underlying warning of a fight to break out if he said anything way out of line and an unneeded reminder to stay on his toes – his dad may have been older, but he was still ex-military rank and he would have no problem in sending Alfred flat on his ass if he tried to fight like he used to.

“Fucking ass,” he grumbled as he scowled at his phone, roughly shrugging off his step-brother’s gentle hand on his shoulder. “C’mon, let’s just get out of here before he starts pissing bricks to come and get us.”

Mathew didn’t comment on the vulgarity and just started leading Alfred back toward the car. It looked like the brat knew when he was in just as much trouble as Alfred.

Small favors.

**[-]**

**KoldMoneey** : whoa srsly?? The rat got beat too?? No way :oo

**AmericanDreamer** : ye ye the broad was all “im so disappointed in u mathew nathaniel williams” like it was all just sooo much bullshit -_-

**KoldMoneey** : daaaamn yo

**KoldMoneey** : brb berhead is btitching

**KoldMoneey** : *bitching

**AmericanDreamer** : lmao alrite

**[-]**

Alfred typed the last line into Skype and then rolled over on his bed, rubbing his sore shoulder from where his father had tried to grab him when he had come through the door. It had been a set up. The broad had grabbed Mathew by his ear up to his room, speaking in such fast French that Mathew had already nearly been on the tears and pleading before he had even so much as crossed the threshold.

Alfred took a bit more effort to crack but his father had only barely made a dent in his armor, the only one to scold him and make him truly feel sorry was gone now and had been gone for a while now.

The teen sighed, yawning and smacking his lips noisily. His father had tried to lecture him on responsibility, something about curfew, how he was running his life into a dead-end, something else about something he hadn’t been wholly listening to at all, blah blah blaaah.

Ugh, sometimes, he wanted to scream at this family – but then again, he didn’t know who he would scream at first.  His father? His step mother? Mathew?

Himself?

**[-]**

**KoldMoneey** : back. berhead was tryin to be funny

**KoldMoneey** : i hope his jaw feels funny too

**AmericanDreamer** : what did he say?? did he do something??

**AmericanDreamer** : wat happened man??

**AmericanDreamer** : kole?? dude cmon answer me at least a bit

**KoldMoneey** : he brought up cold stuff.. all i’ll say

**AmericanDreamer** : …

**AmericanDreamer** : im sorry bro :(

**[-]**

Time passed and no new replies from Mathias other than that single notification. At first, Alfred didn’t assume much of it; he played some games on his phone and beat his previous high score, listened to music and browsed YouTube and regularly checked his messages. Nothing. Well, he had other people trying to talk to him but none were as important as Mathias.

And Mathias wasn’t answering.

**[-]**

**AmericanDreamer** : …anything u want me to do??

**AmericanDreamer** : hello?

**KoldMoneey is offline.**

**[-]**

Alfred frowned at the command message – offline? Mathias never signed off completely. He just put himself on invisible. Alfred knew that; he had seen the guy Skype, knew from plenty of times and he had gotten chewed out once for signing off when the Dane had fallen asleep while talking to friends. Mathias said he liked hearing the little noise of a message and sometimes spooking people by coming online but not being seen as online. Said that he liked the little power of it and Alfred liked seeing him smile even if it was over something as stupid as an activity option but he let it be. He only made that mistake once and from then now, he let the Dane have his little fun.

But this… this wasn’t like him.

Alfred tried calling him, hoping that the other would pick up. He tried again. Third time. Fourth. On the fifth time of hearing the Dane’s obnoxious voicemail. He kept hearing his old self laugh in the background, probably high out of his fucking mind, and he nearly gave up. But then some unknown number tried to call him, however this time it had some ID.

Back in the same city of California and from home too, he answered it right before it was sent to voicemail. Before he lost his nerve.

“Hello?” His voice almost cracked from nervousness, he didn’t hide it very well.

“…hey, Al,” the American felt some relief in hearing the Dane’s voice. “Uh, sorry about that…I broke my phone… I gotta get a new one, um… I’m kinda using the Berhead’s-” Hissed words back and forth, a few swears from Mathias’ end and a low growl from his opponent. “Whatever, that’s what I call ya. Get over it, there won’t be any changing it for a long shot.”

Alfred listened closely, knowing that this might be his last call to his friend for a while. He’d have to treasure these seconds. He didn’t know when he’d get them back. It was pitiful really, it wasn’t like the Dane was dying… but the idea of not talking to the guy who’d been his best friend since practically entering preschool together when Mathias couldn’t yet speak English and Alfred was missing his two front teeth and couldn’t talk right anyways…it hurt.

It hurt more when he thought about how Mathias was the person he’d run to after his mom. Not his dad, not anyone else.  He had ran all the way across town from the hospital to Mathias’ work. At just seeing him, the Dane had called an early break and they just sat in silence in a back alleyway for near an hour just waiting for Alfred to finally break into the final state of mind to cry. When the American just finally spilled, Mathias cried with him; it might have as well has been his own mother that passed.

“Dumme idiot,” Mathias muttered under his breath, coming back to the phone, he sounded bitter. He must have lost the battling of insults. “Anyways… um, I’ll let you know when I get a new phone. I’ll try to get it soon. Dunno if this’ll set back plans or what…”

Alfred nodded even though he should have known that his friend couldn’t see it. When he spoke up, his voice sounded alien even to him. It was slightly choked and almost on the verge of a whine. He tried to cover it up quickly so that the other wouldn’t catch it.

“Yeah, yeah whatever -” He said, he hadn’t know what to add after that and left his words abruptly cut off.

Mathias thought he was mad at him, frowning on the other side, “What's that supposed to mean? I told ya I’d be back. Dude, don’t tell me you’re actin’ like a pussy and cryin’ over it.”

“I wasn’t being a pussy,” Alfred snapped, then sighed. “I’m fine - just,” he had to make up a lie. Oh well, Mathias would never know and he had plenty of stories at his arsenal. “I’m just kinda sore and ventin’ in my bitching, don’t worry about it. The pain meds must be wearin’ off by now...”

“Oh.” Now Mathias felt like a dick. Alfred let him revel in the feeling, before he spoke up again.

“I’ll be good, just take care of yourself, ‘kay?” He grinned, his words carrying over his smirk well. “Don’t let Sir Dick-Up-His-Ass keep ya down, can’t be with me if you’re all the way down on his level.” Feeling like he had done his best to remedy the slight tension, the American waited on a reply. Entertaining himself with watching shadows dance on his walls - wait, where did that one come from?

His bureau wasn’t that big ...or on that side of the room, the shadow wrong…

Mathias’ laughing on the other end pulled Alfred’s thoughts from the mysterious shadow, making him grin despite the slight goose bumps going up his arms at the slight chill of the room. His window was open, the warm air trickling in and yet there was that stupid cold wind going around him. Must be a draft, he knew that the room hadn’t been used in a while. He’d tell his Dad to fix it. If that is, he thought sourly, the older male would listen to him after the mall incident.

“I’ll be just fine, Al,” Mathias said back. “Dont’cha even worry about me, it’s smarter to worry ‘bout that prissy snitch and snob-nosed bitch that  you share a house with.”

Alfred snorted, he’d never get tired of the Dane’s so called ‘nicknames’ for his step-relations.

“Cool beans, bro, cool beans,” Alfred said, voice trailing off as he frowned. Mathias was saying good bye in his ear but he barely heard. The dial tone from the phone went unnoticed. The shadow from earlier -

It was moving on its own.

It wasn’t a shadow from the bureau either, it was too oddly shaped for that, it was more ...humanly shaped. Almost like a tall person - the silhouette of someone tall with broad shoulders.  Red eyes.

Alfred’s breath froze in his throat, a literal gurgle coming out of him as the shadow seemed to tilt its head and come closer, Mathias had hung up. The phone line was dead but Alfred’s hand was still glued to his ear, as he sat there paralyzed to the very spot. Wide blue eyes caught the shadow’s slow movements, saw the dangerous fury in those scarlet eyes, and the teen was fighting with every will that he thought he had in his body to scream.

If he screamed, then someone might hear.

Someone could come and help him.

“Or not,” the shadow came further in his line of sight, out of the bureau’s cast and into the moonlight streaming in from the open window. It was the apparition from before, but this time his head looked to have crudely sewn back onto his neck, blood a bright and decorative shawl over his shoulders and broad chest. His face was pale and bruised and dirty; there were dark circles under sunken eyes.

Alfred thought he looked like he had been through Hell itself.

He managed a short lived grunt as the ghost touched him, a frigid cold stinging his skin that he’d never noticed before - the taller pulled away before the teen had even a chance to blink.

Then cold hands were wrapped around the teen’s neck. The shorter could feel the cold seeping through his pores and straight into his bones, chilling his blood and seemingly freezing the heartbeat in his veins. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t scream, he couldn’t move – He couldn’t do anything!

All he could do was look up at the sinister face smirking from above him. He thought he felt the mattress dip under a new weight as something heavy pressed on his chest.

Breathing was growing more difficult and right as he thought he was seeing the edges of black creep at his vision, he heard something.

“-red! Alfred! Damn it, boy, snap out of it - Jesus fucking Christ, Al, please wake up,” Someone was holding him, someone warm and they felt like hot rock. No, they were softer than rock, so just sturdy. Warm and sturdy. Alfred couldn’t be bothered to think much more at the moment and for a few more minutes, he felt his consciousness shift around and gather his thoughts together coherently.

Then, he started, almost immediately kicking out and trying to get out of the grip.

“Let go of me!” He yelled, trying to break free before he felt his father fight to hold him back down. “Stop! Let go!”

“Alfred! Calm down, it’s me - it’s me,” that pleading tone was back. It felt...it brought back bad memories. He almost struggled harder before he felt his father’s hand touch his face. Warm. Alfred felt the fight in him just die and he felt on the brink of tears.

His father sensed the teen’s surrender and just held him close. “It’s okay, buddy, calm down, it’s okay. Just breathe; just breathe with me, Jesus…” The elder sounded just as scared as Alfred felt. Maybe more. Alfred didn’t know, he was too busy trying to sort through the mess in his head. Nothing was making sense and then his stepmother was talking.

She was kneeling in front of him - actually, everyone was surrounding him - and there was just this bright fear in her grey eyes. She almost reached out to touch him but something stopped her. Mathew was biting his lip, rubbing his thumb over his palm, as he was the first to speak up. “...His color is coming back now, mom.”

His step mother nodded, still looking at her step son, as Alfred’s father kept rocking them back and forth. “His pupils are finally coming back down, I-I think he’s coming back to us… Ask him something, maybe-”

“-get out,” Alfred shuddered. His breath came out as a puff of white air in his vision. He didn’t have to glance up to know that the apparition was in the room with them. Watching. Probably smirking after having nearly brought Alfred to his side of the void. “J-Just...Just leave Dad and me alone for a bit…”

The rocking didn’t cease and even while his step mother tried to protest, something made her stop and she just sighed and pulled Mathew up with her. When they were gone, after waiting a few minutes to be sure, then and only then did Alfred finally let the last shield down and just cry.

“It’s okay, buddy, just let it out,” his father said, smoothing back his son’s hair. He pressed his chin into the top of Alfred’s head, keeping their rock slow and steady. They kept like that for a long time as Alfred cried himself dry and then just hiccuped. His father said nothing.

There didn’t need to be any words.

Although someone else thought different. There was that voice from earlier. The same soft spoken, slow and simple even breath of a sleeping body. Then Alfred saw the apparition blow a slight breeze over his father’s ear, the elder didn’t even react, and Alfred felt terror in his chest. He would have tensed up but he knew that would look suspicious.

“...Sweet dreams,” the red-eyed figure smirked. “Never end and never begun.”

Alfred felt his eyes close on their own and he felt a squeeze overcome his heart before darkness overtook his vision. 

He wanted to wake up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final thoughts: This emoji - :3c
> 
> If you’re still reading, congratulations, because we only get worse and darker from here on out! Prepare for some slight gore and heavy violence next chapter. This one was getting a bit long and I didn’t want to turn it into a huge 12k+ chapter. Nah, just breaking it in two should be fine. Easier to read that way anyways.


End file.
